by Pamela Bauer
“I won’t do anything to embarrass you,” he promised even though he knew that when it came to Maddie, he shouldn’t be making any such statement.
He sighed as he thought about the weekend ahead of him. It didn’t matter if his shoulder was out of commission. He didn’t need a woman to take care of him. He could take care of himself. He always had and he always would. Maddie Lamont would discover that for herself.
LEONIE LEFT Friday morning. Maddie offered to take her to the airport, but Krystal insisted she be the one to see that their landlady caught her plane on time.
Before she left, Leonie sat them both down and explained that Dylan was not the best of patients. Krystal tossed off the warning with a flip of her hand, saying, “Men can be such babies when it comes to their health, but don’t worry. We can handle it.”
Maddie remained quiet, knowing that if Leonie were apologizing for her son, then he probably was like a bear with a sore paw. Not that she didn’t think Dylan had a right to complain. Surgery and rehabilitation were never accomplished without pain.
Instead of giving him the opportunity to moan and groan about his predicament, she avoided going down to the lower level, deciding to stay in her room until it was time to leave for the dance studio. She stretched out on her bed with a good book.
While she was reading, Maddie heard a loud clang, as if a pot had been dropped on the kitchen floor. She wanted to ignore the sound, but visions of Dylan doing further injury to himself while trying to manage the basics of cooking had her going downstairs. When she walked into the kitchen, he was at the counter trying to open a can of soup.
“You don’t have to do that,” she told him. “Didn’t you see my note? I left a sandwich for you in the refrigerator.”
“I ate that earlier.”
She watched as he struggled to hold the can of soup with his right hand, which was in the sling, and use his left to attach the opener to the lid. He wasn’t having any luck.
She walked over to him and stuck out her palm. “Let me.”
He relinquished the can and the opener. In only a matter of seconds she’d completed the task. Instead of giving the can back to him, she poured its contents into the pan and set it on the stove. “Sit down and I’ll make it for you.”
“You don’t have to—” he began but she interrupted him.
“Yes, I do. Now sit,” she ordered. To her relief, he didn’t protest. Neither did he look happy.
He shuffled his feet as he walked over to the table and plunked himself down. Today he wore a pair of jeans and a lemon-yellow crew-neck sweater. He looked good. Too good, Maddie thought, wishing she could ignore the little sensations of pleasure that always seemed to tickle her stomach when she was around him.
“How’s your shoulder?” she asked, trying to focus on his health, not his looks.
“Do you care or are you just making polite conversation?”
“Both.” She broke eye contact, grateful she had the excuse of watching the soup.
“It’s fine as long as I don’t move it.”
“Have you been icing it?”
He sighed. “Please tell me my mother didn’t leave you a list of things I should and should not do.”
“She’s worried about you.”
“I can take care of myself.”
“You mean the way you took care of the soup?” she asked, arms folded across her chest.
“All right. So I can’t do everything I’m used to doing, but I don’t need a baby-sitter.”
“You don’t need to worry. I don’t baby-sit grown men even if they behave like children.” She was losing patience with the man. “Maybe you should watch your own soup.”
Then she went over to the refrigerator, thinking that as long as she was in the kitchen she might as well get her own lunch. She pulled out the fixings for a salad and began tossing them together. Dylan didn’t say a word. When she stole a glance in his direction, she saw that his eyes, however, followed her every move.
When she’d finished, she set the bowl on a serving tray, added flatware and a can of iced tea. She was about to take it to her room when he stopped her.
“Where are you going?”
“Upstairs. It’s where I live,” she added, not wanting to sound defensive but knowing she did.
“Mom said you eat your meals in here.”
“Sometimes.”
“Then you should stay. I promise to be good.” He gave her a smile that said he knew exactly how bad he could be. It was the kind of smile that made her want to revise all the nasty opinions she held of him.
When she hesitated, he added, “What do you think Mom would say if she knew you were carrying your lunch upstairs just because I was eating mine in here?”
Maddie quirked one eyebrow. “She doesn’t need to know, does she?”
“Then don’t do it for her. Do it for me.”
It was a silky smooth plea that had Maddie’s nerves shivering in a pleasant way. “Why do you want me to stay? We both know we don’t get along very well.” Normally she wasn’t so blunt, but with him it seemed to be necessary.
“Maybe it’s time we do something to change that.” There was a provocative glint in his eye that dared her to take him up on his offer.
She cocked her head to one side. “You think by eating lunch together we’ll become good friends?”
“I’m not sure friendship is an option with us. What do you think?”
She could see that they were getting dangerously close to flirting. It was a side of Dylan she would be foolish to encourage. “There’s a difference between being friendly and being friends,” she said carefully.
“Then come sit down and I’ll do my best to be friendly,” he urged her.
Again he smiled and Maddie found herself wanting to give in to the temptation to be with him. Ignoring the voice in her head that told her she would be wise to go back to her room, she set her tray on the table.
“That looks good,” he said, eyeing her salad.
She was tempted to tell him there was plenty more in the fridge. But if they were going to be friendly, she needed to make an effort to avoid that kind of comment.
“Would you like me to fix you a salad?” she offered.
“I can get it myself.” He started to rise, but she stretched out a hand and stopped him.
“It’ll take me a fraction of the time it would take you,” she told him. “I’ll get it.”
He sat back down. “Thank you. I’d appreciate that.”
As she chopped cucumber and carrots, he spoke to her. “You’re pretty good with that knife.”
“I’ve taken a few cooking classes,” she admitted.
“From the way Mom talks about your cooking, it sounds as if you could do it for a living.”
She shrugged. “I’ve thought about it, but decided it’s not what I want to do to pay my bills.”
“You’d rather work at the co-op?”
“There’s nothing wrong with working at the co-op. Lots of good people work there.” Normally she didn’t allow anyone to put her on the defensive when it came to her personal life, but with Dylan it was different. She felt as if she constantly needed to justify herself to him.
“I’m sure they do. I just expected you to be doing something different.”
“Such as?”
“Maybe coaching the U.S. chess team.”
She couldn’t hide the smile his compliment produced. “Garret told you I can still beat him at chess, didn’t he?”
“Yes, but even if he hadn’t, that’s one of the things I remember from the summer you stayed with us. Not many fourteen-year-old girls play chess the way you did.” Admiration tinged his words and pride had her smiling inwardly.
“My uncle coached the chess team at our elementary school. We won the state championship the year I was in sixth grade.” She set his salad on the table in front of him, then went over to the stove and ladled the soup into a bowl. “As long as I’m up,” she said, when she placed it on th
e table.
“Thank you.” He gave her another smile and she knew that one thing hadn’t changed since that summer—he could be very charming when he wanted to be.
And he was definitely making that choice now.
“You’ll have to forgive me if I spill on myself. I haven’t quite got the hang of using my left hand yet,” he said as he raised his spoon, a hint of a smile creasing his cheeks.
Maddie would have thought she was the one who had spilled something, the way his eyes were on her while they ate. She tried making small talk but felt extremely self-conscious. Finally she asked him, “Do I have something caught in my teeth?”
“No, why?”
“Because you’ve been looking at me as if I do.”
He apologized. “I’m sorry. It’s just that you look so different from that fourteen-year-old girl who used to twirl her way through the house.”
She chuckled. “I should hope so. I was all arms and legs back then.”
“And you wore glasses and had braces on your teeth.”
“I don’t know what was worse…being called four eyes or tinsel teeth.” She shuddered at the memory.
He looked surprised. “That’s what kids said to you?”
“A few. The price you pay for having bad eyes and bad teeth.”
“They both appear to be fine, now, or are you wearing contacts?”
She shook her head. “I had laser surgery.”
“I should have known there was a reason Mom had it done.”
That had her pausing with her fork in midair. “You think I told her to do it?”
“Didn’t you?”
“No. It was the other way around. When she told me how painless the procedure was and how happy she was with the results, I decided to try it, too.” She could see it wasn’t the answer he expected to hear. “Your mom does have a mind of her own, Dylan.”
She expected him to give her another skeptical look, but instead he said, “It’s good you took her advice. You have beautiful eyes.”
The compliment was unexpected. She didn’t want to be flattered, but she was. Heat spread through her and she took a drink of her iced tea, then managed to say, “Thank you.”
Again a silence stretched between them and it was all because of the change in his attitude. He wasn’t simply trying to be friendly. He was flirting with her. She should have known how to handle it. After all, she hadn’t reached the age of twenty-eight without having men come on to her, yet this wasn’t just any man. It was Dylan, her landlady’s son, the guy she’d fantasized about when she was fourteen.
She needed to bring the conversation back to safer ground. It was important that she remember why she was having lunch with him—Leonie. “I hope your mother’s trip goes well.”
“Time will tell,” he said in an almost ominous tone.
“Is there a reason why you think it wouldn’t?” she asked.
He shrugged. “Rob Lerner can be brutal with his guests if he doesn’t agree with what they’re saying. That’s why I didn’t think she should go.”
“And that’s the only reason?” she asked with a lift of one brow.
“Yes. What did you think? That I was against her going because I wanted her here to make me lunch?” There was a note of incredulity in his voice. “Have you ever seen the show? The guy can get pretty nasty.”
“I know, but he asked her to come specifically to talk about romance. Why would he give her a bad time?”
“Because she’s a romance coach. It’s a job a sarcastic male comedian could make fun of without any reservations, don’t you think?” There was no mistaking the skepticism in his voice.
“And would you be one of those laughing?”
“Not at my mother’s expense,” he stated unequivocally.
“But at someone else’s expense?” She set down her fork and leaned her forearms on the table, sensing a battle of words was about to ensue. “Tell me. Why don’t you think being a romance coach is an occupation to be taken seriously?”
“I didn’t say I don’t take my mother’s occupation seriously. I just wish that she wasn’t talking about it on national TV,” he corrected her.
“Why? Does it embarrass you that she’s a romance coach?”
“No.” Again the denial was firm.
“But you don’t want her talking about it on TV.” She didn’t give him a chance to respond. “Would you have felt better if you had come home and found her helping people with their taxes instead of giving romance advice?”
“She worked for over twenty-five years helping my dad with taxes,” he answered. “She knows the accounting business. I’m not sure she has the kind of credentials needed to withstand a verbal attack by someone like Rob Lerner.”
“What better credentials than experience? She put in the same twenty-five years with your father working on love and marriage,” she countered.
“You talk as if anyone who’s been married is qualified to give advice on romance.”
“Not everyone, but your mom has good instincts for the subject. And she’s constantly gathering more information—going to workshops, attending seminars, reading journals. She knows what’s she’s talking about, Dylan.”
She could see he wasn’t convinced and wondered if it wasn’t the subject matter that disturbed him more than his mother’s qualifications. Garret has said he doubted his brother would ever give up his bachelor lifestyle. If Dylan didn’t believe in marriage, why would he want his mother helping others find the road to happily ever after?
“Tell me, Dylan. What bothers you more? That she might not be the authority you think she should be or that she deals in a subject you haven’t much interest in?” She challenged him with a direct stare.
“I’m not against romance,” he responded with a dangerous glint in his eye. “Just the opposite. I like women, Maddie.” The look he gave her left her in no doubt that he liked them very much.
“But you don’t need to ask anyone’s advice on romance, do you?”
“Most men I know don’t.”
“Oh—so you think it’s only women who need help in that department?”
“Uh-uh.” He leaned back and held up his left hand palm outward. “You’re not going to trap me in that corner. I’m not going to make some sexist observation that you can jump all over.”
“Your mother has both men and women clients,” she informed him.
“Maybe she does, but most men I know wouldn’t be caught dead hiring a romance coach and I can imagine what kind of questions Rob Lerner’s going to ask Mom on the subject.”
Maddie could see his concern was real and felt a bit guilty that she herself hadn’t thought about such a possibility. Probably because she hadn’t wanted to think that Leonie had been invited to be on the show for any reason other than to be her charming self.
“I hope he doesn’t ask difficult questions or make her uncomfortable, but if he does, I think your mom will know how to handle it,” she stated evenly.
“I hope you’re right.”
He didn’t look convinced and Maddie wasn’t sure there was anything she could say to change his mind, so she didn’t try.
Having finished her lunch, there was no reason for her not to return to her room. As she cleared away her dishes, she said, “I’m going to leave for work shortly. Is there anything else you need?”
He shook his head. “I’m fine.” As he flexed his fingers on his left hand, she remembered Leonie had said he was supposed to exercise his arm at regular intervals.
“What about the exercises? Do you want me to help you with them?”
“No, it’s all right. I can do them myself,” he stated stoically.
Maddie knew that wasn’t true. If there was one thing Leonie had stressed before she left it was that Dylan needed an assistant when it came to his passive motion exercises. Still, if he wanted to do them alone, what was it to Maddie?
Glancing over her shoulder, she saw that he’d eaten everything she’d made for him. He pushed
back his chair and carried first the salad plate over to the sink, then the soup bowl.
“I’ll take care of the cleanup,” she offered.
To her surprise, he didn’t protest. “Thanks for lunch.”
“You’re welcome.”
She watched him leave, then finished with the dishes. She was about to go back upstairs when Dylan returned.
“I guess I need your help after all,” he said as he entered the kitchen.
Maddie could see by the look on his face that he wasn’t happy he had to ask her for anything.
“I tried doing the exercises by myself and it didn’t work,” he confessed.
And now she was going to have to help him. Trying to sound as detached as possible, she asked, “What do you need me to do?”
He slipped his hand out of the sling and let it drop to his side. “You have to lift my arm forward until it’s at a ninety-degree angle to my side.” Just before she was about to touch him, he added, “Gently.”
She wasn’t sure where to put her hands and ended up slipping one beneath his elbow and the other on his wrist. Carefully she lifted the arm forward. She was close enough to smell a hint of his aftershave. It lent an intimacy to an act that should have been strictly therapeutic.
“Hold it there for a few seconds, then let it down again,” he told her.
She did as he instructed, repeating the exercise three more times, asking in between sets, “Am I hurting you?”
“Yes, but it’s necessary. Otherwise my shoulder will stiffen up.”
She could tell by the look on his face that it was painful for him. There were several more exercises, each one causing him to grimace.
When they’d finished, he breathed a sigh of relief. She helped him put his arm back in the sling, again sensing an intimacy that she found disturbing. She wondered if he’d noticed it, too. When his eyes met hers, she could see that he had.
He didn’t say another word, however, but simply thanked her and headed back to his room. As Maddie watched him walk away, she found herself remembering the smile that had been on his face when he’d asked her to stay and have lunch with him.